Torn Recollections
by greenhat97
Summary: Right after the brawl with Soma, Julius decides to rest up. Memories mix with nightmares, and he uncovers bit by bit just what he's forgotten for 36 years. He also has a grouchy exchange with a friend and punches a giant skeleton in the face.


A well-placed chunk of dark flame hurled the hunter backwards. His boots scuffed the tacky carpet and he fell to his knees, grasping the charred fringes of his coat. Graham Jones began to laugh, his mockery hollow in the spacious throne room."Yes, that's it! Kneel before me!" the white-clad priest shouted. "You may have defeated Dracula once and for all, but now? You are _well_ past your prime! When I dispose of you, I'll be unstoppable!"

Julius shook his head, a toothy smile creeping along his face. Arrogant, the bastard, completely arrogant. Then again, most cultists were. He rose to his feet, slowly, as if he had an ache, exercising the frail old man facade for a little bit longer. His bones were actually quite springy for his age. Not that he would go around bragging about it; the instant he did would be the moment time caught up with him. He arched his back, dusted his coat, and slowly made eye contact with his enemy.

"Unstoppable?" he laughed, throwing an arm across his chest. He held it tight. "I've tackled necromancers that were _worlds_ stronger than you," he relaxed, then switched to the other side. "and zombies that weren't as stupid."

The boasts were meant to fluster his opponent, not drive him into a rage. He continued to work out the kinks in his frame as the world blackened and shifted, and when he finally looked up he was no longer staring at a man. A winged demon towered before him, more impressive than imposing. Sharp fangs curled from its bleeding gums, ready to devour him. Pungent breath seeped from its throat, moist and raw; Julius almost gagged from where he was standing. The black monstrosity snapped its jowls, then sprung. The hunter dashed forward, muttering a technique, a wispy trail glimmering into existence with each stride. He dove between its legs, nearly wishing he had brought a knife to hack at its genitals, then leapt up behind the creature of darkness. A whirling cross was sent flying with a flick of his wrist. It buried into its back, a sickening thunk marking its impact.

A strangely pathetic whine came from the monster. It tottered backwards, rattling the throne with its clumsy, thunderous steps. Skin peeled off calves, unveiling thick bone. The last of the Belmonts hopped away, warily observing the creature's movements as it decayed before his eyes. Its useless extremities flailed wildly as it fought to remain balanced. The wicked snap of its spine signaled the end of it. The rotting colossus dropped with a heavy thud, the heart of the castle shuddering from its collapse. A damp, fetid stench began to rise from it. The hunter quickly pressed his nose to his scarf, retching as he caught a whiff of it. The smell was not unlike spoiled milk, perhaps akin to a carrion flower. The ominous echo died away, leaving the low buzz of horseflies that were attracted to the reeking cadaver. The sound brought him back to the meaty corpse of Beelzebub, speared with rusty hooks and his bloody, ragged ligaments. He was a foe that clung to the castle wall, constantly spilling putrid crimson on he and his companion. What a disgusting mess it had made of his clothes, his hair, and whatever else of it that had dried on his skin. He would have felt worse for scrubbing himself off in a holy fountain after the struggle, but a shower wasn't going to come quick enough.

Julius suddenly leapt back in fright, thinking that he had happened upon the withered legs of the Lord of the Flies himself. His eyes settled, warping the world around him, and the demon bat took place of his hallucination. He shook his head, banishing any confusion, realizing in his befuddlement that he was having a dream. The knowledge came in a great rush and left in a whisper, lingering in his mind. He crept forward, keeping his sights on the dead thing on the floor. He suppressed the urge to look away, refused to be dragged into some other hellish recollection. The only protection he had were his eyes, and even those were easy to trick. He took a good, long look at the beast that used to be Graham. Its own eyes were dull, a pale film coating the pupils. It was hard to believe there was ever any wrath in them at all. He bravely nudged the tenderest part of its skull. The face slid off. He placed a hand over his eyes, only to regret his cowardice. Sick, repulsive visions danced behind his lids, feeding his terror and tempting a curiousity best left unsatisfied.

Something shifted past his foot. He peeked between his fingers, running a fearful glimpse over the carcass. It wasn't nearly as bad as he thought; the tissues of its neck were caked with cinnamon, barely visible under the warm-colored spice. A strange relief pierced him, passing through his soul and cleansing any fear in his heart. Painful wracks of horror took its place. The head of the beast was looking at him, balancing delicately on its chin. Strings of green spilled over its fangs, and its nostrils twitched, drawing in the scent of the air. Deep, roaring breaths churned within its withered lungs. Julius put a foot behind him, shifting away uneasily. A moldy paw snatched at his toes. The hunter bolted, never sparing a glance behind him.

The seal on the doors had been dispelled, but they remained shut. A liquid splat caught his ears, a heavy groan as the corpse turned onto its belly. He crouched down, pressing the tips of his fingers underneath the stone. He growled in effort, muscles burning as he forced the ancient slab to rise. It spat pebbles and coughed debris, rumbling violently enough to numb the arms of the man who had disturbed it. Julius tried to ignore another sound, the scratchy hush of flesh dragging itself across the carpet. He knew, without looking, that pieces of it were being left behind.

"Come on," he snarled, perhaps a touch shakier than he meant it to be. This door could test even the patience of a devoted monk, he mused grimly. The accursed thing had risen just beyond his calves. When he felt a rancid puff cast sheets perspiration all over his neck, he ducked under it, scattering thick grains of dust. The door thoomed shut, smashing the gnarled claws that reached for him.

A violent shudder thundered down the hunter's spine. He coughed raspily, paced away, left the nightmare behind him. That was what it was, wasn't it? Just another bad dream. He hoped that there was something more pleasant ahead of him; he needed the rest. He took in his surroundings, rolling his neck from side to side. There was a bit of a Roman touch to the columns, he noted. He could usually check by looking at the tops, but there weren't any. Instead, they reached up into a yawning abyss, high above his head. He stepped around a fallen chandelier, which seemed to be lumped into one jagged shape. Paintings hung on the walls. They swayed in an absent breeze, their masterpieces unframed. A face was spread on every canvas, blurred, wet, and running, as though his mind had mixed with an unclean brush. He struggled to recognize them, desperate to catch a memory. No one was waiting for him.

He scraped his heels across the floor, fascinated with the sound that he conjured. It sounded fuzzy, the brush of a thick carpet blended with the low low creak of old wood. He did it again. And again. Once more, until there was nothing left but sound, movement, and the cool light that draped over his body. He didn't want to see the paintings. Didn't want to think about them. Rather, he _couldn't_ think about them. He had already forgotten the colors.

His foot kicked a shadow. A large one.

The vampire slayer stiffened as the figure picked itself up. It stretched to its full height, rolling its shoulders in one smooth motion. The inky shape was bipedal, broad-shouldered, thick and powerful. Way too tall to be human, too absurdly miniscule to be a giant. Julius' jaw hung loosely, offering an apology to the wakened creature. The stranger turned its head. Bloodied crimson burned his soul.

His breath hitched, frigid needles piercing his lungs. The massive being noticed his distress, a sinful grin spreading along its face. Yellowed fangs cut through the dark, dripping with fresh blood. The scarlet waters gleamed dully in its teeth, sending rolls of horror through the hunter's chest. Julius knew all too well who he was looking at. His trembling hand sought out the Vampire Killer, a thing of the past that had saved his skin in a black fortress of death and despair nearly four decades prior. Trauma and shock had scoured his mind of everything he knew, everyone that he held close. Friends, loved ones, treasured moments, his own name...but nothing could banish this monster. He could never forget Count Dracula.

Glass crunched against Julius' head, the sharp, glistening fragments clinging to his hair. A questionable liquid slipped down his forehead, seeping into his eye. He gingerly wiped his vision clear, mindful of the sting. Sickly alabaster snatched at him, fastening around his skull. The dark lord picked him up as if he were nothing more than a helpless kitten. He began to panic.

'Where is it? Where is it?!' The hunter turned prey abandoned his search for the holy whip, hopes dashed. He kicked the vampire in a soft purchase of flesh. His ears were graced with an irritated grunt. Encouraged, he dug his foot into his enemy, desperate to wring out any pain that he could in his position. He yelped when the count tightened his hold, nails breaking the skin on his scalp.

 _"Soul Steal."_

The dark murmur sealed his fate. A venomous cold worked through him, leeching off of his spirit. Pins and needles dug into his chest, as if his heart were being crushed. He kept unbearably still, desperate to preserve his strength as it ebbed away, flowing into his enemy. It was painless agony. Death danced in his ears, lulling him to sleep. Hot flares of panic kept him alive. The numbness punctured him deeply, twisting his soul in its harsh cruelty.

Then, as briefly as it had come, the darkness left his veins. The count lowered him onto something soft, warm. Hell, for all he knew it could've been gravel. Anything would do for his worn extremities. Julius let himself sink for a moment, relishing in the solidity. So long as he wasn't suspended in the air, waiting for his head to pop...

He stiffened as the vampire lord loomed over him. The hunter set one heavy foot on the ground, attempting to kick himself away. He barely covered a few centimeters before thin hands pressed down, strong and firm. The count was speaking to him, in thick, murky tones, and yet...they were so dangerously friendly. His voice was a cacophony that never seemed to reach his ears, but it cut through all the same, bearing its false promises. Power, of course, was one of them, and wealth, neither of which he cared for. There was a name, then-he couldn't quite catch it, but it settled within him comfortably, filling him with startling warmth-until he spoke of eternal life. He squirmed under the vampire's touch, his judgement rocking like a ship in a hurricane. No! That word should have flown out of his mouth. No! And yet, his tongue was still, paralyzed with indecision.

The gentle count pushed his coat off of his shoulders. Cold fingers picked at his scarf, raising the hairs on his neck. Julius weakly smacked at those sharp claws grazing his throat. Dracula smiled at him, brushing away his efforts. The fallen Belmont settled for covering his eyes once more, shielding himself from that demonic gaze. His skin burned from exposure. He jolted at the prick of imaginary fangs.

The first thing that he was greatly aware of, as he stirred from his nightmare, was how much his feet hurt. He uncurled his toes in his boots, stretching his limbs like a great ginger cat. He pressed his hands to the floor, the grey stone warm from his occupance, and sat up. He hugged his knees to his chest. What a place for an old man to fall asleep! Demons plagued the idle at every turn, ready to tear into flesh and bone until there was nothing left. He was lying right out in the open.

"Welcome back to the living." a warm voice rumbled.

Julius' reaction was immediate. His hand shot back, fingers catching oiled silk. A fist came flying after it, swift and powerful. He came to a rigid halt. Genya Arikado peered at him, wide-eyed, from the edge of his fist. His nose barely grazed the tips of his knuckles. Julius let go of the man, hastily drawing his arms away.

"Sorry," he muttered.

The rattled agent fussed with his tie. "You don't have to be. I am unharmed." He patted his collar flat. Whether or not there was a wrinkle in it was a mystery. "When did you regain your memory, Julius?"

His brain chugged for a moment. The old hunter lowered his jaw. "How in the hell-"

"Look around you." Arikado cut him off.

It wasn't the explanation that Julius wanted to hear, but he did as he was told. He twisted around, taking in the sights. He'd been here before, this was the courtyard. Well, what was left of it. Statues of devils lay in piles of rubble, vanquished like so many of their sentient comrades. Mighty columns had been brought to their knees, the stairs crushed into beaten slopes. He sniffed his thumb. It wasn't his imagination. The stone had an acrid stench to it, like someone had scorched it. How was that possible? No, he knew the cause, but how far away was...?

The tailored shadow watched the man drag himself to his feet. The hunter shuffled toward crumbling rails, a low hunch in his back. There was the consequence shackled to his recklessness. A brick tumbled loose under his foot. Julius trudged on, paying no mind to it. Arikado narrowed his eyes, wondering if he should keep close to him. He wasn't planning to jump, was he?

The battered man edged as close as he dared, gripping a post for balance. He drank in the crisp night air almost greedily, clearing out the deadly, rotten scent of the castle that lingered in his sinuses. He gazed out at a brilliant navy sky. Wisps of clouds stirred below, a temporary abyss that shrouded the world beneath it. He stared, mesmerized, until he spotted a fortress amongst the skies, rising and falling on the wind. Thin, crooked branches gave the island a ghastly shape, as if it were reaching out to crush the stars. Surely, that was the place he had confronted Soma. Gnarled hedges, roses more crimson than the blood in his veins, heavy throbs of chaos at its center...yeah, that was it.

His attention snapped back to Arikado. He knew more than what he was selling. Too much, even for a man of his profession. The agent didn't let him hang around for nothing, and if his suspicions were correct? He stalked away from the chasm, gripping the Vampire Killer. Hacking the sleep out of his voice, he spoke.

"You wouldn't happen to know anyone named Alucard, would you?"

In the span of time it took him to blink, the man was upon him. One arm curled behind his back, constricting him tightly. A cold palm pressed over his lips, forcing back any more forbidden knowledge that threatened to escape. Dark irises shimmered gold, boiling with rage. There were fangs in his snarl, though it took a second observation to notice them. If anyone doubted that he was the son of Dracula, they hadn't seen him furious.

Alucard lifted a brow when the hunter mumbled through his fingers. He moved them away. " _What?_ " he pried lowly.

"I'll take that as a _yes,_ then." Julius began to lean away. "Is overreacting a sound way of protecting your alias, Adrian?"

"Keep quiet!" the dhampir hissed. "I've disguised myself for a reason!"

"Which is?"

"You went chasing after him." said Alucard. His eyes dimmed once more, no longer gorgeous fractals of light.

"Soma?"

"Yes, Soma."

Julius strove to wriggle one of his hands loose. "But he isn't here _now._ Why get all up in arms about it?"

A grunt of pain left his throat when he was squeezed. Rough fabric dragged against raw skin. His back had been torn open, his own power biting the holder after lying dormant for so long. Allowing it to run rampant might have lessened the damage he'd done to himself, but he _had_ to control it, lest the holy flames ravage anything else within their reach. One look around the courtyard was a testament to that.

"Julius, you..." he stopped, collected his thoughts. "Listen to me. So long as we're here, do not call me by either of those names. Can you do that?"

"Sure. Fine. I won't." The half-blood let him go, satisfied with his compliance. Julius felt his own frustrations begin to rise, then. As Arikado stepped back, he closed the distance, jabbing him in the chest. "When _the hell_ were you going to tell me anything? On my death bed?" The taller of them stiffened. "Well, you left me in the damn dark. Say something!" Silence, a damnable thing in his ears. " _Come on,_ Arikado! You're clever enough, redeem yourself! Lie to my face!"

The hidden dhampir clasped his shoulders. Julius let them sink, reigning in his temper. A difficult task, as his hands were itching to break and snap.

"I have no cause to lie to you, and you have every right to be angry with me. I am deeply sorry." he said softly. Arikado studied the hunter's eyes. The moonlight did them poor justice, he thought. What should have been a deep, rich bistre turned obsidian in the pale gleam. "How much do you remember? Everything?" Julius dipped his head. "Do you remember what happened the night you fought my father?"

The vampire slayer muttered crudely. "I beat the piss out of him."

Arikado overlooked his vulgarity. "What did he say to you beforehand?" For a moment, there was no response. Then, the ginger's face fell in horror. Julius shook in his grip, warding off a sudden tide of emotion. Arikado held him steady, his own guilt looming over him. "I'm sorry. That wasn't-"

"He said," Julius hiccuped. He lowered his voice, hoping to cover the rasp. "Don't bother returning home. There's n-nothing _left of it-"_ he wrenched himself away from the agent, turning his back on him.

It was a terrible card fate had dealt him. His amnesia had been somewhat of a miracle, Arikado once believed. He was envious of him for a short length of time. The hunter could not recall the losses, the agony he had suffered. Not even the atrocities he had witnessed, save for Dracula. When approached, Julius was a little wary to trust him, even when presented with his own name. In any case, he'd kept and watched over the Belmont, unwilling to let him go with meager shreds of his identity. There was no telling if he would ever recover, and now that he had...

"The soldiers are still here." Julius lamented roughly. God, he should have tried harder. Halfway through his life and so suddenly he had to cope with his past.

Arikado's tone coldly reflected his sorrow. "They've been servants of this castle ever since they were struck down."

"Does their sacrifice still mean anything? Even now?"

"Of course. No amount of time can ever diminish it."

Julius snuffled. "Alright, I believe you." He pulled at the knot in his scarf, unwound it from his neck. A shame his favorite article of clothing was fated to soak up salt and mucous. As he cleaned himself up, his eyes caught frays of thread. He unfurled the soft material, grumbling in despair. There was a clean slice near the corner, a remnant from his scuffle with Soma. He would have to stitch that up later. Or pester the kid for a new one, if he failed.

He swiped his nose one last time, then pulled himself together. He faced Arikado. The man's gaze was wavering, as if he were being hypnotized. Julius tipped his head. Something sticky crackled along his neck. He touched his fingers to the spot in alarm. He was bleeding.

Arikado came to his senses with a flinch. "You're hurt!"

Julius shot him a glare. "Thanks, Mr. Observant." he looked himself over. There were bite marks all over his coat. Some had found flesh, others had merely torn the thing. He winced as he passed a hand over his stomach, upsetting a nasty bruise. There had to be some _interesting_ colors under his shirt. He quickly looked up when Arikado finished uttering a spell.

"Let me help you." he demanded urgently, his glowing palms seeking blood.

Julius backed out of his reach. "Is that a good idea?" he pulled his coat collar around him, tucking in his neck. The dhampir was persistent. "You were drooling. You've still got some on your lip."

He wiped it away, glowering at the hunter. "What are you suggesting, Belmont?"

"Why is my family name is treated like a curse word?" he wondered, then got to the point. "I'm saying that you should bite me."

Arikado knit his brows together. He rested his chin on his thumb, weighing the cost and the benefit. He was usually fine having a willing... _host,_ for lack of a better term. He was reluctant to drink blood at all if the participant felt used, but that wasn't a problem with Julius, was it? He flicked his eyes upwards. What if someone came down to check on him? There weren't many ways that he could save face while he was feeding. And Julius had already been bitten twice by...

"I am grateful that you trust me, but I'm afraid I must refuse."

Oh for godsake. Julius threw his arms down. "You need to take care of yourself!"

The agent's gaze sharpened. "One could easily say the same for you." he murmured hotly.

The hunter scraped that aside. "Three-hundred twenty-one years taking a nap, and the time between then and now you're still trying to starve yourself!" concern festered in his tone, but he was starting to get loud. "Unless you find a banquet under these rock piles, I'm not-" his tongue curled when those arms drew him in. Lukewarm hands began working under his coat. Julius undid a few buttons on his shirt, suppressing the instinct that told him to stay rigid.

Warm breath stroked his ear. "Are you sure?" his captor whispered. Deep, smooth baritones rolled off his tongue like thunder. Julius nodded stiffly. Had he been wired any other way, this might have been slightly more arousing. He was grateful that he wasn't. Arikado shifted his clothes, pressing sharpened canines into his shoulder.

It was painful for a moment, dulling off into a slow burn as the dhampir began to drink from him. Two heartbeats later, and even that was gone. The only sensation left was the hot blood spilling over his shoulder. He drifted back to his nightmare, to the oily carcass that yearned to slaughter him. A spike of fear embedded itself in his throat, and he batted those thoughts away. Horrible memories of the count replaced them, drenching his imagination in scarlet. He shut his eyes, burning them to the ground. He hadn't submitted to Dracula, there wasn't any point in wondering what if he had.

Something pleasant lanced through his bones. Julius clung to that, mindless to the rest of his distractions. He trusted Arikado. He never bit the unsuspecting, nor the reluctant. He was so unlike his father that sometimes Julius couldn't make the connection. His conscious swam, stars glimmering hazily behind his vision. His stomach twisted itself in knots. Nausea burned in his throat, stinging the roof of his mouth. He tipped his head back, and Arikado moved a hand between his shoulder blades.

A lonely thought dashed across Julius' mind. 'We must look pretty stupid right now.'

"Ghhk!" Julius made a noise of disgust. Arikado ignored him, dragging his tongue over the marks that he made. After a moment, he licked the cut on his throat as well. Julius frowned, hints of sheepishness prickling his emotions. What was he going to do? Reprimand him for not being a messy eater?

Arikado pressed his handkerchief over the wounds, dabbing the moisture away. He let go of Julius, only to catch him again when he stumbled. Before he could voice alarm, there was the short pop of a cork. Julius threw back the potion as fast as he dared. The tasteless syrup quelled his stomach, tamed the whirlwinds spinning in his brain. His exhaustion lingered behind, incurable without a source of caffeine. Ah, well. He wasn't bothered. He settled, tentatively, on Arikado's shoulder. His low temperature was heavy and pleasant, like the cool side of a pillow. He felt the dhampir's hands running gently down his back, over his scars, smoothing his coat.

"Arikado?" a new person, who sounded very small, called out. "We need you to-oh! Who is that?" Julius opened one eye. He and the voice were thinking alike. A young shrine maiden, whose hair was more fiery than his own, peered down the steps with all the timidity of a mouse. She was adorable.

"Don't worry, Mina. He'll not harm you. He is a friend." Arikado slowed his strokes, laying his palms on Julius' back. The vampire hunter said nothing.

She finished her descent, wandering closer. "Is he okay?...Oh, good. It would be awful if someone else was hurt. Yoko's starting to wake up, but she can't fight the way she is."

'She's here, too?' Julius wondered.

Mina continued. "A skeleton flew into the room above us. Hammer took care of it, don't worry. We need you to put up another barrier."

Julius looked up. "Barrier?"

A loud rumble answered him before the girl could. Giant, ivory claws shot out from the corridor. Bursts of rubble sprayed from the ceiling, flying over the shaken trio and clattering around them. A skeleton grin pulled itself through the door. Jaws creaked, sparks lighting between its teeth as they mashed together. Wails of the damned came with its presence, hidden behind a cage of bones.

Julius shoved himself out of his friend's arms. He stalked towards the intruder, his gait low and swift. A flash of silver donned his knuckles. He swung his arm furiously. His fist hit the mark this time, leaving a dent. He punched it again. A jagged crack bolted through the skull, splitting it in two. Its spine trembled, crumbling to dust. Whatever life the creature had left was beaten out of it by a holy fist. Julius stomped through the dust, kicking chunks of it out of the way. He addressed the army waiting in the corridor, pointing sternly in the direction they came from.

" _Get out of here!"_ he roared.

The monsters balked in confusion. Some of them stepped away from the angry hunter. Those of the braver variety growled in vehemence. Bolder still were the ones who crawled towards the stairs. A madman cleared the flight in two strides. He flashed his knife at Julius, his grimace black and rotten. The snap of a whip cut him down.

Creatures of darkness halted in their tracks. They knew that power like the taste of meat, the sounds of screams. It had been different each time, stronger and brighter with every passing century. There was the knight, the first who had bested them. Then the outcast, a gaggle of misfits and their prince at his side. A lonely, determined warrior who never spoke a word, even as he suffered a curse. The magic man, his spells and trickery crumbling the castle before it became whole. There was one who became their puppet for a bit of time, but his feats against them stood tall and smug over his betrayal.

This one? He stood as a myriad of those five holy warriors. A near-perfect balance of all of them. He had put down their master for good, made Chaos itself tremble in wake of his power. He was here again, daring them to face their deaths. Though aged and exhausted, nothing seemed to have dampened his spirit. The monsters trembled. As dull as the zombies were, as brash as skeletons got, no matter how high the minotaurs could swing an axe, all of them knew better than to play with fire.

They lowered their weapons, limping away into the darkness. They had to leave before he decided to kill them. Two creatures, however, saw fit to stay for a moment longer. The Weretiger and the Werejaguar appeared side-by-side, an unusual display of behavior for the werecats. The fierce rivals waited patiently for the Belmont's glare to rest upon them. When they held his attention, they bowed generously, their whiskers touching the floor. He nodded them off, and they left in silence.

Julius turned around. "Th- _ **Haachoo!**_ _"_ he sneezed tremendously, shocking himself and his company. He apologized, then began again. "That was easy. Didn't think they'd listen. You, you're Mina, right? What's someone like you doing here?"

Mina edged away, hovering near Arikado. "I came to watch the eclipse with a friend at first, but we ended up here, and..." she relayed her tale. It sounded like a picnic gone wrong, in Julius' opinion. He couldn't blame her for being stressed out. "...he came back here to check on me, but the last time he did, he got scared and ran off before I could ask him what was wrong." She lowered her eyes.

Julius scratched at his chin whiskers. "I hope this friend you're talking about happens to be Soma. Otherwise we've got someone else to-"

"Soma?" the girl looked up hopefully. Concerns came spilling out of her. "You've met Soma? Where is he? Is he alright?"

Julius hesitated, clearing his throat. "H-he's...fine. No need to worry about him." That searing glare from Arikado spoke volumes. "Actually, Mina, he's the reincarnation of Dracula. I tried to kil-"

"What?!" she cried, jumping in shock. " _That's why he was so upset..._ oh, I've got an idea! Arikado, how much magic do you have?"

The agent raised an eyebrow. "As long as I'm here? Limitless."

She nodded fiercely, short hair bouncing from the action. "Alright. I'll see if I can get Yoko to help!" she zipped past the two men before they could ask what she had in mind.

Julius watched her make her way up the remnants of the stairs, until he could no longer hear those tiny steps. He yawned, stretching his arms in front of him. He locked his fingers together, palms facing out, then rolled his neck. Cold silk draped around him, holding him close. Julius let his arms drop, leaning into the sensation. One younger habit crept over him. He reached inside the dhampir's suit-jacket, easing in his arm and reaching up to hold his shoulder. It would have been easier if Adrian were wearing a cape.

"It's good to have you back." his friend murmured gently, looking down with orbs of gold.

Julius nodded once. There were still many things to be done, but those could be discussed later. He decided that he must've been lying to himself in his dreams. There was somebody waiting for him after all.


End file.
